This Town Ain't Bad Enough
by x.Vivace
Summary: Sequel story to This Town Ain't Big Enough. Deathshipping/mentions of Thiefshipping. "Let me take you out on a night of vile villainy." Years after the original story took place, Ryou loses his job, and his roommate Mariku tries to cheer him up; too bad he sucks at helping others. M mostly just for language, with some drugs and brief citrus.
1. Fatal Flaw

**A/N: Hello, people of FF! It's been years since I wrote for this archive, so I figured what better time to sneak up and post a sister fic to go along with This Town Ain't Big Enough? I read the original story in November when I was feeling pretty down about my NaNoWriMo project, and I guess things just went from there. I wrote this entire thing last minute before my new semester started and it's about thirteen or fourteen thousand words and five chapters, which I'll upload over the course of the next week or so.**

 **Quick disclaimer: THIS IS A SEQUEL FIC. You can probably get the gist if you haven't read the original if you really wanted to try, but I recommend reading it (even though I wrote it in high school, apologies in advance lol). There will be a rating change when I upload the next chapter due to drugs, Mariku's mouth and some lime; no lemon. Lastly, I do not own YGO.**

..

 **Chapter 1: Fatal Flaw**

Ryou didn't often come home crying after his shift was over. It was only an entry-level management position at a fast food chain, and most would agree the job was made for a twenty-year-old college student who happened to charge too much to his credit card on occasion.

That night, however, he bawled like a hungry baby with clueless parents.

Everything that could have gone wrong, well, did. Someone forgot to rotate the beef when the previous order was received, so a good chunk of the supply had to be thrown out. Of course, Ryou was the one who discovered it and had to fill out the paperwork. He had a crew member call and quit over the phone ten minutes before his shift started, and another who was stuck at home with the flu. An hour before close, the district manager popped in with no warning to 'see how the night was going' (Ryou had a feeling he was disappointed, regardless of what excuses there were for the place to be in shambles on a boring Monday of all days.)

All that was part of the issue, but those were problems Ryou was perfectly capable of handling. He could make food quickly and accurately while taking drive through orders at the same time. He could answer the new guy's barrage of questions while simultaneously setting the store up for the next day. Trying to be the two missing coworkers as well as the shift lead felt akin to spreading butter with a fork, but it was doable. He could ask his supervisor to explain to the district manager about the horrible night and all would be forgotten in a few weeks.

Those things; they were child's play. Ryou was wonderful at his job. He cared about his workplace much more than the average fast food employee, so the small things didn't bug him even when they did pop up all at once. If anything, they made the time pass by faster.

And though he realized that, some problems were just out of his hands. At least, that's what Malik insisted when the poor white-haired young adult came home with a runny nose and a waterfall of tears.

"There was this woman," Ryou said between sniffles, when his roommate had asked what had gotten him so worked up. "She was so mean, Malik. I don't think anything I could have said to her would have changed her attitude."

The woman was the real issue. She was a drive-through customer, and he had taken her order. She was a bit snippy to him over the headset, but most people weren't very polite when ordering fast food, so he didn't think much of it.

When she got to the window, Ryou noticed the person taking the payment was taking longer than usual to finish the transaction. The line of cars was wrapped around the building and bursting out of the parking lot, so he tried to get closer to listen for an issue he could help with. He ended up catching the tail end of the most dreaded thing someone like Ryou could ever hear from a customer:

"Hey, she wants to speak to a manager," said his coworker, a skinny high schooler with pink hair and a no-fucks-given kind of attitude. She always chewed gum while she worked no matter how many times management told her it was unsanitary.

Ryou tried his very best to keep his face neutral, but he felt his eyes widen a bit with the terror roiling inside him. He took slow steps to the propped-open window, forcing his features to mold into a smile he hoped reached his eyes.

"Yes, ma'am, how can I help you?"

The woman didn't smile back. "I want to run my card as credit, not debit. You need to show this girl how to do that so I can pay."

Ryou felt himself visibly relax a little, even though the woman's tone was far from friendly. It was an easy issue; or so he thought. His voice was cheerful as ever. "Well, I'd absolutely love to do that, but unfortunately our machines don't let us choose the way the card is entered. If it's a debit card, it has to be run as debit, likewise with credit. I'm really sorry, but if you'd like we can tack on a chocolate milkshake at no charge for the inconvenience."

The woman's face was the epitome of unamused, her head tilted down to reveal a double chin and a terrifying glare that lasered through her bangs. She spoke with the grace of a redneck at a gay pride rally.

"Let me tell you why that's bullshit..."

Ryou felt his smile melt away as the woman began to yell at him using vulgar language whenever possible, causing the customers inside the building to stare. His coworkers had also stilled, listening to the awful exchange.

After about thirty seconds of verbal abuse, Ryou gave up on trying to calm her down and shut the window. He turned his back on the customer and walked straight back to the walk-in freezer, feeling tears burning behind his eyelids already. The cold was unforgiving, but at least he was alone.

The pink-haired girl came to the back after a few minutes to tell him the lady had asked for his name upon receipt of her food so she could "call corporate and tell them about the awful experience she'd had".

"Don't worry, man. I didn't give it to her. She was a cunt," said his coworker, popping her gum loudly. It echoed through the freezer and just reminded Ryou of why exactly he was a terrible shift lead; no one listened to him.

That was how he told the story to his three housemates, Malik, Mariku and Bakura. The latter two looked mostly disinterested in hearing about Ryou's dreadful day, but Malik paid attention and commented when necessary, such as an angry huff when the villain of the story, double-chin lady, was introduced.

"She doesn't know your name, so what can she even do?" the tan teen comforted, patting Ryou on the head.

Ryou sniffled loudly to eliminate a rather persistent string of snot threatening to drip into his mouth. His tears had subsided after offloading the story, but his eyelashes stuck together in the corners of his vision, reminding him of the terrible night for hours to come.

 **.**

One week later, Ryou was asked to resign from his job.

"She wrote the CEO of the company, kid, and you were the only lead working that night," said his store manager, who was a middle-aged man. He was a recent divorcee and displayed multiple symptoms of alcoholism. "If you don't want to risk having a fire on your resume, you should just look for another job. I hate to lose you, but it's probably the smartest decision on your part."

Ryou nodded, his stomach sinking at the thought. He truly enjoyed his job, and leaving it was not something he was ready to do. But at the end of the day, he wasn't going to work at a place where he was no longer wanted, so he emailed a letter of resignation on the spot to his store manager. He sent a carbon copy to his district manager just because he was angry and wanted to go out with a _bang_.

Ryou's idea of a bang was not the same as others, who might have considered pranking the crew by ordering seventeen boxes of toilet paper for next day shipping just because he knew they'd have nowhere to store it.

...Which he may or may not have done, too. (He did.)

Revenge gotten, the white-haired student still found himself slumped over dejectedly in his seat that night at class. The teacher droned about math equations Ryou had already learned how to solve while the Brit chewed his lip relentlessly.

"Ryou!" The whisper was hardly that, and many students looked around to find the source of the noise. Unsurprisingly, Ryou looked up to see Mariku turned fully toward him.

Statistics was the only class the two had together. It was held every Wednesday and Friday at 4 P.M. and the two usually carpooled since Ryou didn't own a one. He saw no need in poisoning the city air even more when public transportation would usually suffice.

Though they were sitting right next to one another, Mariku still spoke in his awkwardly loud whisper. "Are you still depressed 'cuz you got canned from your job?"

Ryou gasped at the implications of his roommate's question. Louder than he meant to, he replied, "I didn't get fired!"

"Whatever. Is that why you're all mopey?" Mariku ignored the teacher, who had turned around to _shush_ the pair.

"I guess, yeah," Ryou admitted, using his finger to trace a knot in the wooden table they shared. "I just really liked my job, that's all."

"No, you didn't," Mariku argued, scribbling notes down with terrible penmanship. His lilac eyes shifted from the board the teacher was writing on, to his notebook, then back to Ryou. "You hated that place and you know it. You came home crying enough."

"I didn't! That was only the one day last week, you liar." He knew it wasn't right to call people liars, but Ryou was an honest person.

"Crying over it once sounds like enough to me," the broad Egyptian retorted, and he was right. The Brit had walked right into that one.

The pale twenty-year-old sighed and looked down at his own portion of the desk. Mariku's notes were coming along much better than Ryou's, but he'd probably just end up copying them later. Not that he needed to; he was easily more gifted in mathematics than his tan classmate, who wasn't really talented in any studies at all. The only reason he'd decided to continue to attend college after the first semester was because Ryou begged him to keep up with didn;t particularly care, he told himself; it was just the right thing to do to encourage one's classmates.

Right. It was only because he wanted to be a good friend. (The ecstasy he felt when Mariku had rolled his eyes and agreed to sign up for a semester or two more begged to differ, but that was a story for a different time.)

By the time class released, the sun had set over Domino and the two students were assigned a very unfair amount of homework to truck through. Thankfully, the drive was a long one, so Ryou spent most of it filling out some of the assigned study guide using the light from his cell phone.

"Anyone ever told you you need to chill, Ree?" Mariku's voice sliced through the other student's concentration.

"Yeah," he replied, his pen halting only briefly before he finished the equation he was working on. "You, every single day."

"Maybe you should listen, then," said the Egyptian. "Like, go get laid, or something."

Ryou's eyes widened in surprise at his words, and his pen halted a lot longer this time. He gripped it tightly in his pale fist. "Don't insult my integrity."

"It wasn't an insult," Mariku shrugged, and he meant it. He knew Ryou was not one to hop in bed with the first willing guy without any reason. "It was supposed to be advice, but if you'd rather we could just skip the part where I give you terrible advice and we could play Mortal Kombat all night."

The broader young man's words were lined up perfectly with their arrival back home. Mariku pulled into a parking space and eyed Ryou for a response.

"Why bother? I'm going to kick your ass."

"You couldn't beat me even if you chose Ermac," the Egyptian challenged.

Ryou scoffed. "Because _you're_ going to choose Ermac. Overpowered or not, I'll still win."

"Prove it."

And prove it, he did.

Ryou laughed loudly, tossing the Xbox controller to the other end of the cheap sleeper sofa as he cheered for his own victory. It was multiple victories in a row, actually, but he had lost count of exactly _how_ many. Thankfully, Malik and Bakura were out doing what they did best; wreaking havoc on the citizens of Domino as their villainous alter egos, Lynx and Fatal Flaw (Malik had changed his villain name once the duo became infamous in the city, since hundreds-too-many jokes about the name 'Fast Fist' began to pop up for obvious reasons).

Mariku glared at his pale counterpart, holding his own controller tightly in frustration. He had to be careful not to break the fragile thing, though, because his own super power had presented itself shortly after moving into their shared apartment. Mariku blamed it on his new habit of lifting weights every day since the complex had a gym on the first floor. His power was, after all, inhuman strength. Though unrelated to Malik's abilities, he sometimes wondered if the gifts were genetic, too.

"Be careful. Those controllers aren't cheap and I'm out of a job now," Ryou reminded him, eyeing those tensed caramel hands like one might a cat with the family hamster between its jaws.

"I know," Mariku insisted, dropping the x-shaped controller on the couch between them and standing up. He stretched his arms, revealing a good portion of his muscled stomach. "If we're going to keep doing this stressful shit then I need something to keep me mellow. You want some?"

Ryou eyed the small glass bong his roommate had plucked from its hiding place taped underneath the coffee table. He was stuffing the end of it full of what Mariku liked to call the Devil's shrub clippings. The pale student held up a hand to turn it down, but swiftly lowered it. It wasn't often he smoked with his arguably addicted roommate, but he was having way too much fun kicking Mariku's golden behind to let it end.

He knew as soon as he was the only sober person in the room, the night was going to get really weird. Mariku was a handful sober; dealing with him while he was on drugs was a whole other story.

"Just one hit," Ryou agreed. That was the beginning of the strangest, most epic weekend of the entirety of his college years-and it had nothing to do with the drugs.

 **.**

 **A/N: I know, I know. I'm probably about to get a whole lot of people who are grumpy at how I'm choosing to write Ryou. In the original, I made him way too soft. Now, he's older, he's jaded, and he's got a crush on a psychopath. On that note, I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter. :)**


	2. Avalanches

**A/N: Be warned; this is where things get a little weird. Honestly, I didn't censor myself while writing this story like I normally would. I figured, what's the point? I don't need to worry about it not getting published due to vulgarity...because that would be copy write infringement, anyway. Let me know what you think, positive or negative! Enjoy!**

 **.**

 **Chapter 2: Avalanches**

"Another?" Mariku's offer was accompanied with a toothy, mischievous grin.

Ryou nodded, taking the glass contraption he'd never realized was such a miracle worker between his thumb and forefinger. He flicked Mariku's lighter and inhaled deeply against the mouthpiece for the fourth time that night. One hit was easily lost after two.

Wait.

One was always lost after two. One plus one equals two.

"Was one ever even actually a thing?" The words spilled out of his mouth before Ryou could stop them. He felt his face flush obnoxiously hot, but maybe that was just the pot intensifying his senses like it tended to do.

A billowing laugh from Mariku told him he was wrong; a blush had overtaken his features like vines in a rain forest. "You're embarrassed because you just said something stupid while high. You're such a fucking lightweight."

It was true; he was a lightweight. He'd taken less puffs of the acidic smoke than Mariku, but he was acting much weirder. Or maybe Mariku was just _always_ weird. He decided on the latter, while simultaneously deciding on his next character in Mortal Kombat.

"I'm going to make you regret not quitting sooner by beating you with the most underpowered character ever; Baraka," Ryou said, the words echoing in his own head so loud he worried about avalanches. Mind avalanches. Would his skull cave in?

"Baraka Obama," commented Mariku, his words were accented with terribly contained laughter. He always had been one to go mad at his own jokes; it was endearing.

Ryou chuckled at his friend, then added his own pun. "Baraka sounds like Bakura, too."

"You're right. That's your fucking last name," the Egyptian pointed out like he'd just realized it himself. "You should marry him so that he can be Baraka Bakura."

Ryou was pretty sure that wasn't how that sort of thing worked. He eyed the clearly alien character. Gay marriage had just been legalized and he felt like interracial marriage would be pushing it. With those damn millennials protesting and voting and whatnot, it was only a matter of time before it was a socially acceptable thing; damn brats.

In his mind, the voice that spoke his thoughts was that of an old man. (Ryou _was_ a millennial, and he had no issues with their social standings-or anyone's, for that matter.) He laughed from deep within his stomach, feeling joy he hadn't felt since he was a little kid; one who didn't have to worry about rude drive through customers.

"Pick a stupid character," Ryou said after he'd composed himself. "We're going to be sober by the time we get into the map."

Mariku shook his head, pointing his toe at a plastic bag full of marijuana that was sitting on the coffee table. "Not if I have any say in that."

The way the other looked at Ryou so seriously caught the pale student off guard. It seemed he was being asked if he wanted more, but in a much less obvious way than before. Mariku could be a sweet guy when he wanted to, though most of the time his character consisted of inappropriate comments and dick jokes.

"Your girly side is showing," Ryou commented, though normally he would have treasured a moment where his roommate displayed some sort of sensitivity. Maybe the inappropriate comments came with the territory of being on drugs, he idly thought, because his mouth was getting increasingly harder to control.

"Your girly side is _always_ showing," Mariku combated, not skipping a beat at the insult. Comebacks were second nature to him; he was used to verbal abuse from Bakura. The two had not slowed down their bickering since moving in together two years previous.

"I _am_ gay," Ryou reminded him. It was a fact about himself he'd learned to deal with early on in his senior year of high school, though it took a few awkward encounters with his company's twin, Malik, before he realized it. Those were memories he cherished, but only because they were of his best friend. He had no romantic interest in the more feminine of his two Egyptian roommates.

Not since meeting Mariku. The man sitting on the couch with him; that was a whole other situation that consisted of a lot more sinful desires.

For instance, when Mariku would lie back on the couch while they played (they were now, and Ryou wasn't sure when the match had even started) his shirt would hike up on the sides and reveal the firm muscles that banded his midriff. His tongue flicked between his tan lips as he moved with the controller. Peeks at the Egyptian's torso were very hard to resist, so Ryou soon found himself losing the match, and then the rematch, resulting in a best-of-three win for Mariku.

When the honey-colored young man stood and punched high in the air, victorious, Ryou had to tear his eyes off the way the his athletic abs curled around his belly button and toward...toward…

He was breathing heavily. He was going to pass out.

Ryou pulled his knees to his chest and leaned on the arm of the sofa, releasing his grip on the controller. It clattered to the floor, causing echoes and avalanches and, fuck, how do you breathe again?

"I want this to be over," he whimpered. "I can't be high anymore. I can't control my…"

 _I can't control my thoughts_ was what he intended to say, but apparently he could control them well enough to sever the connection between his tongue and his brain before that load was released into the world. Mariku definitely did not need to know about his lust.

He had, after all, turned Ryou down once before already.

A memory flashed behind his eyelids, warped from the lingering scent of the pot he'd inhaled. He saw himself leaning in to kiss Mariku in the front seat of his truck only a month after they'd become roommates. He felt the firm hands on his shoulders as he was held at arm's-length and asked in an accusing tone, " _What are you doing?"_

" _I thought you were sending me signals,"_ he'd deadpanned. Honesty would be his downfall, yet again, when Mariku ultimately rejected him and said he'd forget about the awkward advance if Ryou 'forgot' about his feelings. That's how they came to the mutual understanding they were at; the boys were classmates who lived together and pooled their money in order to afford the newest games and consoles as they were released. They carpooled to school and sometimes ate out together on the way home. They were friends, but nothing more.

"Can't control your…?" Mariku questioned his counterpart, a blonde eyebrow raised poitedly.

The sound of time passing whirred in Ryou's ears, and it was two years after his memory; he was back in the present, and Mariku's hands were on his shoulders again, this time to steady him.

Trippy.

"...My anger. I'm just really pissed you beat me." Ryou allowed his lips to peel into a smile to make his lie more believable. He'd promised to forget his feelings that day, and he would do the best he could, even though the crush had lived through a rejection and the better part of their three-year friendship.

"Oh, I'll fucking _beat you_ next time you say you don't want to be high anymore when we smoke together," Mariku said, even though his actions contradicted his stern words. He was taping his precious belongings back where they were always hidden just in case someone wanted to snoop through their apartment. "This shit isn't cheap."

Even in his uncertain state, Ryou wasn't too sure how likely he was to partake again anytime soon, but he figured it was best not to mention that. Instead, he felt his brows twitch very slightly downward, turning his forced smile into the tiniest of smirks. "Oh, master, please don't beat me."

That sounded a lot less sexual in his head.

Mariku didn't react as negatively as Ryou thought he would. He casually removed his tanned hands from the Brit's shoulders and crossed them over his pecks. The Brit knew the defensive stance was because his roommate actually did have a thing for bondage and domination; he'd admit it when asked, unashamed.

"Was that supposed to be suggestive?" Mariku asked, leaning his weight on one hip. He looked pretty feminine in the stance, but only someone with a brass pair would ever dare say it to his face.

"No," Ryou swiftly corrected. Too quickly, like he'd practiced the denial in the mirror. (He had. Multiple times, actually.) "Not a chance. You're not really my type, you know?"

Even to the pale student, the words sounded like a joke. Part of him wanted Mariku to believe what he was saying and the other part wanted him to take his jesting tone as flirtation. He flip-flopped between desires, a fish out of water. A fish in water? Fish always looked pretty awkward to him, especially the ones with the big eyes you won at the fair.

Ryou realized he was making a fish face, bugging his eyes out and sucking his cheeks in rhythmically. He wasn't in the right mind to notice the silence that had fallen between him and his roommate, but he was certainly in the right mind to ruin any sort of moment they might have been having.

"Mariku, look. I'm a goldfish."

"No, you're a white-fish. I'm a goldfish," said the Egyptian, pointing at his forearm.

"You're right; you're pure gold. 24 karat," Ryou said, and then covered his mouth. Between his fingers, he mumbled. "Sorry. That was supposed to stay in my head."

"I was talking about my bangal, anyway," said Mariku, looking pointedly off to the side of Ryou. The gold-clad student lifted his arm and pointed more clearly at his jewelry, accenting the motion with a fish face of his own.

The Brit knew it was miraculous he'd had so many slip-ups and Mariku hadn't dismissed himself or even gotten defensive. He smiled at the man before him, the theme music to Mortal Kombat playing in the background, and stood up to meet his eyes.

"Thank you for bearing with my awkwardness," he said, glancing down at the floor to hide the onset of a blush. "It was a really bad day before it ended with this."

He heard Mariku snort and it was a positive noise. He was amused, or at least not angry. "Fuck, I do this every night. Consider that an open invitation."

 _He doesn't mean it like that_ , Ryou told himself, peeking through his eyelashes to see Mariku's expression. It was averted, but he was smiling in a way that brought out his resemblance to Malik.

It was the gentle expression Malik used on Bakura when he thought the other wasn't looking.

Wait; no, it wasn't. Mariku never did _anything_ gently.

Ryou was high and he was jobless and he was angry at the stupid lady for getting him almost-fired. He was imagining things, desperately grabbing at his aspirations in fear of losing sight of them all in the same day.

He'd wanted to advance in the company he was working for to make sure his resume was irresistible when he finished his business management degree. That wasn't going to happen. He wanted to finish his math work before bed. Nope. And more than anything, he wanted to grab his roommate by the chin and kiss him until their lips chapped and cracked and bled and their tongue muscles got sore.

 _Definitely_ not.

Ryou was awakened from his thoughts by Mariku, who'd set his lilac eyes on him and pinned him against the couch. Metaphorically, of course.

"Uh, Ryou, you don't look so good. Maybe you should go to bed."

The Brit fell back into his seat as he backed away from the approaching man, landing awkwardly on his Xbox controller. The television screen went wild as his butt scrolled through options, finally settling on starting a rematch between the last characters they'd played with.

"Hey! Cheater!" Cried Mariku, leaping for his own controller the moment the battle started. The couch skid a few inches back with the force of his classmate's landing. "I wasn't ready!"

"Me either," the Brit admitted. Nevertheless, they played three times and on the tie breaker, Ryou won by slicing off Mariku's head and bowing as the body dropped. "Last time was a fluke, see?"

"This time was the fluke. You won one, I won one, so it could be either way," Mariku rationalized. He'd seemingly forgotten about his suggestion for Ryou to go to bed. Neither student seemed to mind.

"I didn't really catch that," Ryou muttered, blinked tiredly at his roommate. "Too many 'ones'. I think I'm crashing, Mariku."

"You want more?" He'd already begun to reach under the table, but he retracted his hand when Ryou shook his head.

"I think we should rematch tomorrow, though," he reasoned, twirling a strand of milky hair around his finger as he spoke. "Except, maybe without the drugs so we get a fair gauge?"

Mariku shook his head, and Ryou's heart dropped an anchor in his stomach to steady itself in the storm that had touched land inside him. Was he being rejected once more?

"The drugs are very necessary, but we can hang out. We can't play this game all night again, though. There's only so much ass whooping a man can take from his girlyboy roommate before his dick starts to shrink," Mariku said with a wave of his hand, as if to insinuate he didn't care as much as he acted like he did about the losses. "What do you want to do?"

Ryou's relief was the eye of the storm passing over, because he was still at risk of making his proposition sound too much like a date. (He wanted it to be a date.) "Maybe we could go out and do something in Domino. But, like, as friends."

"Of course it would be as friends," Mariku stated. He seemed much more like his usual self, than Ryou, bluntness and all.

"Of course," the Brit agreed, though his palms sweated profusely.

"Do you want to do something stupid?"

"Stupid?"

"Yeah, like stupid but not drugs. Stupid like...illegal."

"Mariku, pot is illegal," Ryou reminded him, though his head was still unsure which thoughts of his were real and which were echoes of his stupor. He blinked his bloodshot eyes.

"Okay, fine, stupid like," the Egyptian paused. " _More_ illegal."

"There aren't levels of legality," Ryou reasoned. "It's black and white. It's either illegal or it's not."

"But what about Fifty Shades of Gray?" Mariku argued. Maybe he wasn't truly in his right mind, however normal he seemed. How much, Ryou wondered, was he high and no one even noticed?

"No, she signed a contract, so it was legal," the Brit said. He'd read the book, though he'd never admit it to Mariku, who watched ten minutes of the movie before declaring he'd seen much better porn and left.

"No, I mean what about the shades of gray," Mariku clarified. He'd just gotten his words mixed up. "What about murder? Murder is more illegal than pot, right?"

"You could get arrested for either, but go on." Ryou decided arguing wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"Let me take you on a night of vile villainy." The tanned roommate accented his words dramatically, throwing his arms out to enunciate a bout of maniacal laughter. "We'll own the night like Bakura and my brother."

It was no secret in the household that since Mariku's powers had presented, he'd been out on a few of his own heists. A few, meaning he no longer had to work a full time job to support his part of the rent, his tuition and his recreational activities. He worked part time as a waiter, upon request of Ryou in order to keep him from completely going darkside like their other two roommates had. Neither Malik or Bakura were very serious about continuing with their college education, claiming they'd found their calling in their nighttime escapades.

"I don't want to be a villain," Ryou pouted. He'd gotten a few of his memories back from when he was in high school and Bakura had shared his body with him. He remembered running from the police on multiple occasions, as well as leaping from rooftops and landing on his feet, unharmed. He remembered having certain relations with Malik, as well, though he'd never admitted it to any of his roommates.

"But you have a power," Mariku pointed out. He was sitting criss-cross on the couch, fully facing Ryou. "It's such a shame to let it go to waste."

"Intensified reflexes aren't really a power," Ryou said, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. "Even if Bakura makes it work, that doesn't mean I can."

"Fuck yes you could!"

"No, I can't. Bakura has Malik to make it easy on him."

Mariku laughed, deep and loud. "Malik doesn't make anything easy but getting laid. Besides, you'd have me."

 _And that means so much_ , his puppy-love spoke internally. Thankfully, his filter had returned, more or less. "I think I'm going to pass. Maybe we could just buy a new game and try to beat it in one day?"

"That sounds like my kind of Saturday," the Egyptian agreed, almost too easily.

Nevertheless, Ryou smiled, unknowingly signing away his normal weekend in favor of something a little more…

Mariku's style.

 **.**

 **A/N: I know no one really reviews or even reads for this fandom anymore, but I do hope the few who've seen this are enjoying it so far. Have a lovely night. :)**


	3. Seafood

**A/N: In this chapter, I mention that Ryou has a love for the horror genre (this will be relevent in the coming chapters). I decided to throw that in as a shout-out to a fic I read recently and loved, which was Hello? by Rannaty. The work was as awesome as its author! If you like Deathshipping, check it out! :)**

 **Chapter 3: Seafood**

I was about 2 P.M. the following day, and the students had just left the house. Mariku slept on the pull-out couch in the living space of their apartment, so when Ryou exited his room at around eleven in the morning in search of coffee, he spent the midday hours in his pajamas, sipping his beverage and enjoying the company of his roommate; voluntary or not. Mariku snored occasionally, his arm blocking the upper half of his face from the intruding sunlight that wedged through the cracks in the blinds. When 1 P.M. creeped up on him, Ryou decided he'd make the Egyptian a cup of java the way he liked it; more so the two could finally get their day started than to be nice.

Ironically, where Ryou enjoyed the bitter bite of black coffee, his counterpart wouldn't touch the stuff unless it was as white as the Brit's hair. It was an oddity of their relationship he thought about while gazing through the window of the truck he'd grown so familiar with. He stared and stared, and watched the game shop he thought they were headed to pass by. Mariku didn't falter; had he even noticed?

"That was the game store," Ryou said, his tone gentle. He pointed at the familiar building until it was out of his sight. His fingertip left an unsightly smudge on the truck's window. "Well, it's okay. You can just turn around here and get to it from the back roads."

Mariku didn't move to flip on his blinker and he soon passed that turn, too.

"Where are you taking me?" Ryou felt his eyebrows knit in concern at the steely look on his companion's face. He didn't manage to get an answer, but he had a feeling he knew it already.

His instincts were dead on, he realized, as Mariku pulled into the parking lot of his old job.

"This is the Brawny Burger," The Brit pointed out. "Why did you bring me here? You aren't planning on eating that God-awful rubbish, are you?"

"First, ew, I don't eat meat and you know that," Mariku began, removing the key from the ignition with practiced hands. The silence that was left when the growl of the exhaust was gone made Ryou's ears start to ring. "Second, I brought you here because you said you loved this job last night. If you like it that much, march your white ass in there, put your stones on the counter and tell them you did nothing wrong and you're going to sue if they don't let you come back."

"I'm not going to sue them," Ryou stated. He'd thought about it, because it was definitely an unfair situation, but he hadn't _really_ been fired. He'd quit before it got that far. "It's a big corporation. They've probably got lawyers sitting around just waiting for a case like this."

"They don't need to know you aren't actually going to do it. The moral of the story is: if you want the job back, go talk to them." Mariku's hands moved when he talked. The keys sung as he twirled the ring around his forefinger. He shot the Brit a knowing sneer. "You _do_ want it back, right?"

"Well, yeah. No, I mean. I do, but I don't. It's weird."

"I'm not going to pretend to know what the fuck that was supposed to mean," Mariku said, accenting his harsh tone with a stiffly-raised eyebrow. "But if I were in your position, I'd say good riddance to them. If they really think you're that disposable, then they don't deserve to have an employee like you, anyway."

Ryou felt his face light up, his eyes twinkling at the compliment. It was a compliment, right? The other man was so hard to read sometimes. "Thanks, Mariku. I guess you might be right."

"Duh, I'm right. Who wants to work in food service, anyway? That shit _sucks_."

It really did suck. The hours were random, the coworkers never stayed around more than a few months. The management was selfish and didn't recognize people for their hard work. It was a terrible industry where humans were used as verbal punching bags and then thrown under the bus; or at least, _he_ had been. Ryou's eyes narrowed with the bitter-tasting memories as he pulled his knees to his chest in the passenger seat and hugged them tight.

"Can we go to the game store now? I think I want to get the new Watch Dogs and-" Ryou cut himself off, his posture perking back up with a moment's notice. "Hah! Look at those losers!"

Mariku jerked as he felt the back of Ryou's hand slapping his upper arm; how annoying. He grabbed it to stop the irking movement, but neither boy was really paying attention. They both looked down Ryou's other arm as he pointed at the dumpster behind the restaurant.

"What are all those boxes?" Mariku asked, narrowing his eyes to force them to focus. He was getting to the point where he needed glasses, but he wouldn't dare tell anyone. No way was he going to be the strongest man in town; but wait, he needed to clean his glasses before he fought someone.

"That would be about 300 dollars worth of toilet paper," Ryou informed him, he reminisced about the load he'd ordered the day he left, turning his head back to face the Egyptian. The amusement melted from his features when he caught a glimpse of their hands. Mariku's coffee bean flesh was pinning him against his buff shoulder. He'd been backhanding his arm to get his attention, yeah, but when did Mariku…?

The other student followed Ryou's gaze. His face was blank when he removed his grip on pale fingers and put the keys back in the ignition. He turned it, and the ride to the game store was quiet.

 **.**

"What about this game?" Ryou pointed at a freshly-released RPG through the glass case at the shop.

"No, that's single player," Mariku commented, barely glancing up at the title before averting his eyes to something on the other side of the display.

Ryou sighed, impatiently pursing his lips at his companion. He'd been pretty quiet since they left Brawny Burger. He idly thought of not voicing his concerns about Mariku's mental state, but he shoved the idea away. The taller student was upset because of the contact they'd shared; however innocent it might have been. That much was obvious, so it should have been an easy fix.

"You know, that hand thing wasn't really a big deal, Mariku. Not to me, anyway."

Mariku's arms were crossed huffily as he perused the games in the Xbox section. He preferred the One over the PS4, and Ryou wasn't going to complain either way. The tan man tried to look distracted while he craned his neck to inspect a title that was lower to the floor. "Me, either. I just didn't like the way you were hitting me, that's all."

"I was excited. I'm sorry," Ryou insisted, though the chuckle that broke his apology elicited a narrow-eyed glare from his roommate.

 _He's adorable when he's grumpy_ , Ryou heard himself think. He couldn't deny it; he felt loads more giddy than he did before they went to his old job, and the reason was hardly the toilet paper prank. Their contact had felt so easy. Their hands molded together to create a supplemental pillow for one another. He said it wasn't a big deal, but his inner crushing schoolgirl was going absolutely nuts over something so incredibly innocent.

Ryou picked up a game to distract his thoughts, knowing he was reading too much into gesture. That was probably exactly what Mariku feared; why he was acting weird. The Brit pulled at a strand of his white hair when he spoke again. "Anyway, I know you didn't mean it, you know, like _that_ , so don't worry."

The words were almost too quiet for even his own ears to hear, but Mariku caught them. He replied, "We're just friends. Got it?"

Lilac eyes stared at Ryou with intensity, and his reflexes kicked in. His porcelain arms raised in a _don't shoot_ fashion.

"Got it," he repeated back, blinking innocently at his companion. Something was off about how tense he was over the whole thing. Maybe it was because of all the slip-ups Ryou had had the previous night. He cursed himself for not holding his tongue; or cutting it off when he couldn't.

"We should get the new Halo Master Chief collection. It's cheap, multiplayer and an awesome game," Mariku suggested. His ability to slip back into the conversation like nothing had ever happened was almost offensive. Ryou knew he wasn't _that_ easy to forget about.

Part of him wanted to prove it by pressing his counterpart against the display case and kissing him wildly, but another part of him knew Mariku would hate him forever if he did something so aggressive. They were "just friends" as he liked to put it, though they spent more time together than the average couple. And, really, would a friend get so upset about touching the other's hand?

The answer was no. Mariku was definitely dodging the situation. The Brit knew him way too well not to pick up on it.

Ryou decided to pretend to be cooperative if only to make it home without setting his roommate off any more than he already had. They paid for the games they'd picked out and left like nothing had gone wrong in the first place. The chill of the end-of-year air had invaded the cab of the truck, so Ryou slammed the door as quickly as he could, wrapping his arms around himself. He was rubbing his hands against his nonexistent triceps for friction when he felt a pair of purple eyes boring into him from the driver's seat.

Mariku was leaning his head back, looking through the corner of one eye at his companion. "I'm hungry. Food?"

Ryou nodded. He blinked away from the Egyptian, because his gaze was intense as ever. The kohl that lined his lashes and then some was done with practiced expertise right before his eyes that morning, though the Brit could easily say he was just as good-looking without it. His thoughts were bustling, but Ryou didn't miss a beat in the real world when he agreed to Mariku's lunch plans.

"Food."

 **.**

"It never ceases to intrigue me that you'll eat fish, but you're a vegetarian," Ryou observed, tilting his head curiously at the slab of pink meat on top of a helping of lemon-basil couscous.

"Technically," Mariku noted, jabbing at the salmon with his fork. He held it with a fist like he'd never eaten in public before, but Ryou wasn't one to stress over table manners. The blonde continued, rolling the balls of couscous over his tongue as he spoke. "I'm a pescetarian."

Ryou laughed at the way Mariku talked with food in his mouth, mimicking his behavior by taking a bite of his chicken breast. "Are you eating seafood or see-food?"

He stuck his tongue out, revealing a half-chewed chunk of his own lunch. Mariku laughed without the same stiffness he'd displayed in the store. His long tongue extended downward to return the tease. His bite had long since been devoured, so the muscle was clean.

That time.

His expression (raised eyebrows, glazed-over eyes, outstretched tongue) was the epitome of Mariku's personality, and Ryou was ecstatic to see him acting normal once more. When his Egyptian friend was emotional, it was always intense. It happened so rarely, since normally his efforts were put toward more productive things like maintaining his place in the top 100 in the United States on Call of Duty. (And spouting the most random of penis jokes.)

When the other man felt, he felt things hard; that was what Ryou had observed about him.

He chewed on his thoughts and his chicken, then curiously sniffed a french fry to see what the red seasoning on it was. Old bay, it seemed. He put the end of one in his mouth, then offered another to Mariku.

"Why did you fucking smell your fries?" the Egyptian roommate inquired, snatching the offered food between his thumb and forefinger and quickly disposing of it. Sometimes, Ryou wondered if he had blinked and missed it, or if the other didn't always chew his food.

"I don't know. What if the seasoning had been something weird like paprika?" Ryou said, stuffing a handful more of his meal in his mouth.

"Old bay is made of paprika, you dork," Mariku pointed out, pilfering another of his roommate's fries without asking.

Mouth full, Ryou muttered, "Oh."

He knew his food showed, but there was something about Mariku that made him not care enough to speak into a napkin or even take smaller bites. The side of him that cussed kids out over voice chat and smoked and ranted about his horror genre obsession; that was reserved for Mariku and Mariku alone. No one else understood. Not even Bakura, who had been a part of him since his childhood, or Malik who had been his first friend in Domino City.

It just showed that amount of time truly meant nothing when it came to building bonds. What mattered was who and why.

Ryou realized a silence had fallen while he was in this thoughts when the other broke it.

"What's got you so quiet, Ree?" Mariku said around his straw. He sipped, the last of his drink growling against the bottom of the cup, and then set the glass down between them. Ryou watched as the ice settled, clattering so naturally against gravity, then looked over the rim of the cup to pin his Coca-Cola eyes on Mariku.

"I'm just worried about getting another job, you know?" Ryou half-lied. He hadn't even started looking, thanks to the previous night's shenanigans-and he would have bet anything that that night was going to keep him from his responsibilities, too. He could always say no to hanging out with Mariku…

Except he wouldn't. Time with his high school friend's brother wasn't rare, but it was definitely treasured. Ryou needed the relaxation then more than anything since a major part of his young life had crumbled to pieces in the span of a week.

He needed time with his best friend. Mariku was his best friend, right? Of course he was, though the other probably didn't realize it.

"Do you want me to leave you alone so you can apply to places?" The Egyptian offered. "I can play Halo by myself."

"No! You can't!" Ryou tried (and failed) at keeping the desperation out of his tone. Involuntarily, his arm raised and reached across the table for Mariku.

"Yeah, I can. It says on the packaging-"

"No, I mean," Ryou paused, lowering his hand to grab his own drink so he could pretend like he'd meant to move that way. "I don't want to cancel our plans. I'll work something out. I have savings and my semester is already paid off."

"You have savings? How adult," Mariku teased, idly reaching up to fix one of his hair spikes that had broken free from the gel. It had begun to droop in his face. "You know what's kind of funny, though?"

"Hmm?" Ryou hummed around his straw. He wasn't really drinking the drink so much as chewing the plastic that delivered it into his mouth. The black tea was much too sweet for his taste; a common problem he'd stumbled upon in America.

"You're the only one of the four of us who makes a completely honest wage," the tanned man began, already clutching his stomach preemptively for the laughter that was brewing. "And you have the least job security out of all of us."

Ryou snorted, and it was bitter. "You're absolutely right. And now that my name is ruined in the food service industry, I don't even know where to start looking again."

Mariku scratched his chest, though his hand jerked awkwardly with the motion. Ryou looked down and noticed his roommates was pointing at himself, the masted his eyes up enough to catch his lips forming into a mischievous smirk.

"Are you trying to tell me to ask you where to find a job?"

Mariku nodded, then tilted his head to the side. Ryou followed the direction he'd leaned with his eyes until they landed on a group of three sitting at a booth in the restaurant, laughing and talking while waiting for their food.

"Those heroes," Ryou muttered, then rolled his eyes. At first, he didn't mind the trio too much, but when they started hanging around their flat to try and catch Malik and Bakura doing something sinister, he swiftly grew tired of seeing them out of the corner of his eyes. He knew it must have been awkward; the nemeses knowing each other's true identity but all being caught at a sticky impasse. If any one of them revealed the truth behind the nature of their relationships and the help they'd offered one another two years previous, then the archetypes of Domino would collapse in on themselves. If that happened, both parties would lose all the respect they'd worked so hard to gain.

Ryou only let his eyes linger on Yugi, Anzu and Jonouchi for a matter of seconds before the waitress returned with the check. He peeked over the black billfold, noticing that the tabs were not split.

"Let me pay," Ryou insisted. He grabbed for the fold, but Mariku raised it over his head to keep it out of his roommate's range. The tip of his tongue slipped between his lips again, this time to gloat his victory. Once Ryou gave up, the Egyptian pulled out his wallet and slipped his debit card into the folder. The waitress immediately came by and snatched it up once more.

Ryou felt his shoulders slouch. His bangs covered his eyes when he tilted his head down; they were getting far too long. "You didn't have to do that. I have money."

"Consider it a thank you," Mariku said. He had gotten a little more serious now, his arms folded over his muscled chest. His long-sleeved, black crew neck did nothing to hide how built he was, especially when he crossed his arms and stretched the material taught over his torso. "For being open-minded last night. It was fun, I guess."

"You guess?" Ryou felt his lips curve upward with the threat of a tiny smile.

"It was, alright? Jeez, I insert the tip and you take it down to the balls," Mariku grumbled, ignoring the strange look the received from the waitress as she returned the billfold that held his card.

Ryou snorted at the terribly inappropriate joke, especially considering the circumstances, but decided to go along with it. "You know that's how I do things. Er, balls deep, I mean."

"Those words sound so weird coming out of your mouth."

"Oh, and you said them so gracefully."

"Your accent is just kind of...prim," Mariku justified, one hand rubbing at the first signs of blonde stubble on his chin. "Hey, say the phrase cum-guzzler."

"No! Not here." Ryou ducked his head low to the table, glancing around at the other parties with a growing blush to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. The waitress had long since disappeared.

"I take back what I said about having fun with you yesterday, then," Mariku spat childishly. He smirked and tilted his head to let the other know it was a challenge.

Ryou _harumph_ -ed, standing up to lead the way out of the small cafe. It had begun to crowd, and he was not fond of large gatherings.

"Only virgins refuse to say dirty things," teased the Egyptian as he sprinted to catch up. The trek was easy for Mariku, who was athletic by nature. He had a lot of energy to burn. "Virgins and British people, and you're both."

"You're half right, and you know which half," Ryou responded once they'd both climbed back into the confines of the truck.

"So your accent is fake?"

Ryou huffed and stiffly flicked Mariku's hand as he reached for the shift knob.

"Ow, fuck! What was that for?"

"You think I'm such a wet blanket, don't you?" Ryou accused, his dark gray eyebrows knit together in frustration.

Mariku tentatively settled his hand on the knob again so they could leave, carefully watching Ryou's eyes so he could predict any future attacks. As he pullled out of the parking lot, the buff student answered the question. "Yeah, I kind of did back when we were in high school. You seemed tortured and depressed all the time."

"Maybe because I had Bakura inside me!"

Mariku snorted loudly, his hair flopping obnoxiously with the motion. "I'd be depressed if I had Bakura inside me, too."

"Imagine sharing a _body_ with him. He's not even good at sharing an umbrella," Ryou pointed out, ignoring the innuendo. He was used to them after being friends for so long.

"Or Malik," huffed the Egyptian. "I mean, my brother is annoying. How can anyone stand to be around him as much as Bakura?"

"He's possessive," revealed Ryou. "I felt it, too, when he was part of me."

"So you remember a good chunk of how their relationship started, don't you? Talk about being a third wheel. Awkwaaaard," Mariku sang the last part, stealing a glance at his counterpart. He had a small smile on his face, but it was much more weighted than the laugher he'd expected to see.

"The weirdest thing I remember is having sex with Malik beside a dumpster," Ryou admitted, his smile turning into pursed-lip grimace. "Back in high school, I kissed him and Bakura was jealous, so he took over from there. That's part of why I'm _not_ a virgin."

Ryou tacked on the last part if only to prove that he was not and never had been a wet blanket.

"You kissed Malik? Why?" Mariku asked, his face twisted into a scowl. It was unbecoming of his usually sneering features.

"He was being really nice and I was still questioning," Ryou explained, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie. Maybe he should have left his and Bakura's memories of Malik a secret; Mariku didn't look very impressed. "I had friendship and romance confused, that's all. And it didn't help that he wouldn't stop hitting on me to make me admit my sexuality."

"So he led you on. I'll beat him up for you," Mariku said, and his tone was completely serious. Scary serious.

"That's not necessary," Ryou insisted, though it made his cheeks heat; the thought that Mariku would beat up his own brother for hurting him. He meant that as friends, though, right? The Brit wanted to test to water a little. "Besides, I've had sex with girls, too. Well, one."

Mariku pulled up to a stop light just in time to fully react to the information Ryou had disclosed. He turned to look a his roommate, who was probably the most effeminate pretty boy he'd ever met aside from Malik. "You're joking."

"I'm dead serious, unfortunately," Ryou told him, burying his face in his hands. His words were muffled against his palms. "We met at a party in high school. Again, I was questioning, so I thought that having sex with a female would clarify things. She got very mad when it clarified them all too quickly and I left part way through. I told her my grandma was sick and I couldn't focus because I was worried about her."

Mariku laughed, almost drowning out the last part of Ryou's story.

"She thought I was comparing her extremely saggy breasts to my grandma's. I suppose she must have been self-conscious about them."

"Girls are so weird," Mariku noted, but he quickly rounded the conversation back to the original topic. "Either way, you're a virgin in my books until you've experience pleasureable sex...or until you say the words."

Ryou's mind's eye flashed a fantasy of himself sitting on the edge of the pull-out couch Mariku slept on, his eyes clouded with lust as he looked up at a shirtless version of the Egyptian. In the fantasy, he asked Mariku to show him what pleasurable sex was like, and he did.

Probably, " _Show me, Mariku"_ were not the words he'd meant for Ryou to speak.

Unfortunately.

"Cum-guzzler," Ryou spat, the words rolling of his tongue like a cat's nails on tree bark. "Happy?"

"Extremely," Mariku said. "Oh! Speaking of what we were talking about in the cafe, aren't you curious about the job I have to offer you?"

"You had mentioned something about that, yes," Ryou said, sounding as disinterested as he could to get on the other's nerves.

Mariku turned to smirk nastily at him, and the Brit immediately knew the job offer was not something he was interested in.

 **.**


	4. Tablecloth

**Chapter 4: Tablecloth**

"Absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent, swear I'll gut you if you ever ask again, _NO_!"

Ryou's words echoed through the empty flat. They traveled through Mariku's ears and right back at him with a hollowness even he could hear.

"Then you'll have to go get a knife. I'm not going to stop asking," the Egyptian prompted, his hip jutted out to show he was going to be stubborn about their argument. "Just do it. You'll have fun."

"You sound like you're trying to sell me cocaine!" Ryou exclaimed, throwing his arms out to either side of him to accent the accusation.

"I can get you some, if that's what you want. But only if you rob a bank with me like I asked; incredibly nicely, I should add," Mariku wagered.

"I don't want to rob a stupid bank and I definitely don't want to become crack addict at the same time," the Brit grumbled. He knew Mariku was toying with him. He had to have been, because there was no way in hell he could possibly think Ryou wanted to start a career as a criminal.

"Fine, then I'll put it this way," Mariku said, preemptively holding out one of the two costumes he had slung over his shoulder. They were his own; he wasn't a very famous or frequent villain, but he had second costume in case something happened to the original. "Either you come with me to rob a bank, or I'll do it alone and then use all the money to buy cocaine and lace it in your toothpaste so you slowly become addicted, anyway."

"You wouldn't dare." Ryou's eyes were narrowed dangerously at his classmate.

"I've done way more fucked up things, Ree," Mariku growled, and Ryou had no doubt he was telling the truth.

The sheet white man frowned and slumped down on the couch. Mariku sat down beside him, but on the edge of the cushion so he could still face his victim of the night.

"You need a job, and I need help with this particular bank; it's a sign that this was meant to be. Besides, it'll be _really_ fun," Mariku insisted once more. He grinned, already knowing he was triumphant from the defeated way Ryou's bony shoulders collapsed in on themselves. He shouldn't have been happy to see his friend so dejected.

But he was.

"Yeah, for you," the Brit pouted. "You're the only person in this room that enjoys committing felonies."

"Well, you're the only person in this house who _doesn't_. Hah!"

"Is that really a good thing to you…?" Ryou trailed off, knowing it was. His hands found the spandex fabric Mariku was holding out to him. "This won't even fit me."

"We're almost the same height, at least," Mariku tried to reason. The buff Egyptian and reason were not two things that normally would pair cohesively; and that time was no exception. The outfit would be loose, spandex or not, due to the difference in muscle mass. And Mariku was at least a head taller than him, a fact the Egyptian was choosing to ignore since it did not support his case. "Go put it on under your clothes in your bedroom. Hurry, before Malik gets back from class."

Ryou did as he was told, though his stomach did flips with every step. He was nervous, but excited, too. Excited; why? Because of Mariku, more than likely, but another part of him knew it was going to at least get his mind off of the negative aspects of his week.

The Brit rubbed his lips together thoughtfully as he stepped into the body suit. The spandex didn't cling to Ryou's skin like it should have, sagging and bunching up in places where there would have been muscle on the other man. He sighed and put his clothes back on over it; a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a navy blue hoodie. It was freezing outside, so he was definitely not looking forward to shedding the precious layers once Mariku dragged him to the scene of their crime.

Ryou exited his room with heavy footsteps, pondering whether or not it was terrible to be excited about committing such an act. He hoped the negative karma he'd build up wouldn't be too much of a hindrance when looking for another job.

"Buck up, Buttercup," Mariku said, giving Ryou a playful punch on the shoulder. "Tonight is going to change your world views."

"Or just my opinion of myself," Ryou retorted, already feeling the effects of dwindling pride in the person he'd become. He was anything but a thief; he'd shed those parts of himself when he and Bakura had separated. In that moment, he decided he was not excited; he was _terrified_.

"Hey."

Ryou looked up, allowing for Mariku to envelop his pale face in those large hands. They were warm and calloused, and he smelled like pot. Or maybe that was the living room. He was positive the other was sober, contrary to his insistence that drugs were a necessity the previous night. The taller man would never admit it, but he really did care about what Ryou thought. At least, that was the impression he was getting from their more recent interactions.

"You have to trust me. This is going to be the best night of your wet blanket life," Mariku insisted, but his voice was much gentler than before, a convincing purr.

His roommate's hands emanated heat (wait, that was Ryou's cheeks. He was blushing) as he pulled them away. The paler of the two grabbed his counterpart by his retreating wrist and pulled the limb back toward him. He held the back of Mariku's hand against the side of his face and pressed into it,his eyes closed to fully enjoy the moment. He caught a whiff of drugs once more, and decided it was the other's jacket sleeve that smelled.

"Mariku, your clothes kind of smell like-" Ryou cut himself off, his eyelids fluttering open. He could have sworn that when he'd closed them, his classmate was much further away. Now, their faces were so close that the Egyptian's arm was bent completely to allow for the contact. The Brit finished his sentence in a whisper. "Like marijuana."

The proximity was just as much thrilling as it was calcifying. What was Mariku getting at? Just earlier that day, he'd been upset about accidentally holding Ryou's hand. Now, he was caressing his cheeks and…

And leaning in to kiss him.

Ryou glanced lustfully down at Mariku's approaching lips and then back into his half-mast eyes. It was slow-coming, the kiss, and it was unnerving how gentle the Egyptian was being, still holding his hand against his pale roommate's cheekbone. He slid his fingers down to Ryou's neck and wrapped them around the side of his throat; that was more like what he'd been expecting. Mariku dug his fingernails into the field of baby hairs right below the base of Ryou's skull.

The brit hissed, bucking his chin forward to force their lips to meet, but Mariku drug his hand up and gathered a section of Ryou's hair, tugging it back so the Brit's head tilted away, exposing his neck. It was as pale as a tablecloth; a smorgasbord of sexual desire. Mariku noticed the entirety of his face and throat was flushing crimson, and he thanked his dark-skinned roots for hiding what his own blood was likely doing, too.

Mariku moved to sink his teeth into Ryou's flesh just as the lock on the door clicked, and too soon, Malik stepped into the apartment. He paused in the doorway, eyeing the duo, who had quickly split to separate ends of the couch.

Ryou could feel that his face was obviously heated, and both boys had their legs crossed.

"Uh," Malik began, sliding out of his coat and setting his keys on the table by the door. "What are you two up to?"

The original occupants of the room didn't meet eyes, and Mariku was the first to speak. "We were just about to head out for the night."

Malik waited for either one to stand and confirm the statement but both stayed planted on their respective sides of the couch. "So go. I won't stop you."

"In a minute," Ryou added to the story, looking at the tile like he'd never noticed the alternating pattern of it. "I wasn't quite ready to go yet."

The effeminate Egyptian twin hung his coat on the back of the front door and fixed his collar. When he turned around, his roommates were still stiffly seated. He rolled his eyes and headed to the kitchen, calling after him, "You guys have boners, don't you?"

"Oh, can it, Fatal _Flow_." Mariku's response and cackle was enough to confirm his brother's theory. Ryou's blush had not abated, and it was due to inexperience, not embarrassment. It was weird to be walked in on, but it wasn't like Malik hadn't seen two guys getting freaky before; even if he _had_ caught a glimpse of his roommates before they separated, it was no big deal.

Ryou wasn't shy about that. He was nervous about what the scene would mean for his friendship with Mariku, mostly. He decided to hazard a glance at the other, and his brief look immediately turned into a staring contest when he realized Mariku's lavender eyes were fixed on him.

His face was carefully unreadable; like even the tan student didn't know what was going on in his own head.

"Let's go," said the Egyptian, standing up and heading to the door to open it for his classmate. "We've got work to do."

Ryou didn't respond. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to brace for the cold and followed Mariku down the street. They passed his truck, and the Brit stared at it longingly for a moment before sprinting to catch up with his roommate.

"Okay, first of all, why are we walking?" Ryou began, hearing his voice shake as shivers wracked his slender body. "Secondly, what _was_ that?"

"We're walking because it's not far and I want to clear my head, and that was…" Mariku paused, then sneered at Ryou. "That was _my_ other personality. He has thing for the less-threatening-than-a-beignet type."

"Are you making fun of my stories about Bakura and I? That makes no sense, because if you were half of someone, you'd be the darker half like he was for me," Ryou argued. His words were harsh, but his tone was the opposite. It was honesty, not an insult.

"I wasn't really trying to make fun of them," Mariku said, not denying his likelihood to be someone's dark side. His voice lowered to a near-growl."I was being metaphorical. Meaning, I have no Goddamn clue why I did that to you; why I wanted to do a fuck of a lot more."

Ryou saw his chance and he snatched at it like a kid chasing a flyaway balloon. He grabbed his classmate by the crook of his elbow and tugged until he stopped walking and turned to face the offending Brit. "I wanted you to do more, too. For a very long time."

"You said you'd forget about your feelings."

"Why, so you could forget about yours?" Ryou accused, his eyes narrowed. He'd never once thought Mariku returned his feelings, but the way he'd pounced on him back at their apartment was definitely not something friends often did.

"Yeah, actually," Mariku spat. His tone was frostier than the night air. His emotions were never tame. "I'm going to fucking hurt you, Ryou. Don't you understand that?"

Ryou shivered at the thought (he blamed it on the cold), then dared to lean into Mariku's ear. He knew what the other meant; physical pain. His mind flashed to their conversation about Fifty Shades of Gray the previous night. Mariku had always made it known he had a thing for domination, and that mixed with his newfound power could end up as a deadly night for any partner he took on.

But Ryou; he had a thing for being dominated and he had been craving a certain kind of danger. He wanted Mariku to break his skin, to bite him and tie him. He wanted the Egyptian to do as he pleased; maybe because he was a masochist or maybe because he wanted Mariku to be happy.

He whispered into the curve of his taller classmate's ear, "I promise I understand and I really, _really_ want you to do that."

Mariku scrunched his face, either confused or caught off-guard, and turned away from the other. "Come on. We've got a job to do before it starts to fucking snow out here."

It was definitely cold enough, but snow was not in the forecast. Mariku was stalling, but one could only hold off a conversation that heavy for so long before it seeped through the cracks in their defenses. Ryou would have his moment where he could dissect the Egyptian's feelings.

And just to make things clear, Ryou had gotten a solid A on every dissection he'd ever done.

 **.**

 **A/N: I feel ridiculously awkward when writing sexual stuff. Lol. On that note, just to reinforce the M rating, there's a lot more sexual stuff coming (pun intended?) next chapter. Nothing super explicit, just some really nasty words maybe not suitable for you to be reading around your parents...I mean for anyone under 18. Yup.**

 **Chapter five is the last one! I should have it up by tomorrow night unless college/work swallows my soul before then. Have a lovely day!**


	5. Pony Tail

**A/N: I just wanted to say really quick that I'm grateful to those of you who are reading this far! This story started off as something I never intended to actually write...and now I'm sitting here depressed that it's done because I haven't had this much fun with my own words since high school. Fanfiction just makes it so easy to let loose and not worry about what anyone will think if I say certain things. Unlike with original writing where you have to take into consideration things like if a publishing agency would turn its nose at something with cuss words or minor porn/mentions of it. Anyway, I didn't mean to bore you! Please let me know what you think! I love critiques and comments alike.**

 **.**

 **Chapter 5: Pony Tail**

"This isn't a bank," Ryou noted, eyeing the building they stood in front of. The lights were off due to the late hour, but the building was unmistakably one he'd already visited that day, if only briefly.

"Of course it isn't a bank," Mariku taunted, smirking victoriously. "You'd never rob a bank."

The confused look Ryou sent to him prompted the Egyptian to keep talking.

"Well, you'd never do it _well_ ," he corrected. "Anyway, I told you that's what we were doing because I knew you'd never agree to come back here after our talk earlier."

Ryou scrunched his nose up at the building they were looking at from across the street, hidden behind a bus stop. The Brawny Burger was closed, dark and sleeping like he'd left it so many times when he worked there. "But you thought I would agree to robbing a bank? That makes no sense."

Mariku snorted and sent his counterpart a nasty smirk. He leaned too close; the touch barrier had been broken. "And yet you did. That says something about you, doesn't it?"

"You threatened to lace my belongings with cocaine," Ryou combatted. He turned his head away to avoid the puff of frosty humidity that pillowed out of Mariku's mouth. "I think that says something about you."

Mariku blinked at him, seemingly caught off guard by the comparison. His blonde eyebrows knit together, and he looked down his nose at Ryou. "This is exactly why I want to ravage you sometimes."

"I don't understand what you mean by that," Ryou breathed, his hands stuffed as deep in his hoodie pocket as they would go in order to combat the cold. Mariku's words were out of nowhere, but not particularly unwanted.

"You're a fucking Rubik's Cube of reactions," the Egyptian explained. "One second, you're practically begging to do whatever I ask of you, the next you're disobedient."

Ryou stared at his classmate with a wide-eyed, even expression. Being called disobedient was not something he wanted to hear, so he decided he didn't need to respond. Besides, what did he mean by a 'Rubik's Cube'? He was hard to read, probably. So was Mariku; he supposed that made them even. Eventually, Ryou spoke up. "What exactly are we doing at the Brawny Burger again?"

Mariku tilted his chin down to give Ryou an insulative glare. It said: _This is what I mean by disobedient._ The message was clearly received, so the Egyptian answered his question. "You said there was an ungodly amount of toilet paper in those boxes they threw away. It would be a shame to let it go to waste, right?"

Ryou's eyebrows raised; his face was the vision of cherubic innocence. "No. We aren't going to TP my workplace!"

" _Previous_ workplace," Mariku corrected. "It's not like you're going to have to clean it up."

"That's true, but the ones who _will_ clean it aren't the ones who deserve to be punished," Ryou said. He crossed his arms against the suggestion. "We aren't doing this."

"You mean _you_ aren't," Mariku sneered. He walked until he was out of the pool of light coming from the only lamppost on the street and unzipped his jacket. As he was reaching to take off his shirt, Ryou grabbed his wrist.

"What if someone sees you?" he asked, glancing around. The streets were empty and all the shops were closed because of the late hour. It was unlikely, but what little Ryou remembered about having a villain identity was that Malik and Bakura always changed in the cracks and crevices between buildings in the city.

"What are they going to do? Call the cops? We'll be gone before they even turn their sirens on," Mariku assured him. He tugged out of the Brit's grasp and continued disrobing. "The costumes are only so the cameras don't pick up our faces."

The Egyptian flattened his hair as much as he could and put it up in the most haphazard man-bun Ryou had ever witnessed.

"Take your fucking clothes off," Mariku snarled, slipping a mask on over his face. His villain outfit was very plain. It was mostly black, with red accents here and there. What he wore to cover his face was the star of the show; a replica of Jason's mask from Friday the 13th. It was Ryou's suggestion, and also his design. It was easy enough to make out of an old goalie mask and some red paint.

"Or what, you'll do it for me?" Ryou wanted to test the new development in their relationship, and since being called disobedient, he wondered if that was a part of him the Egyptian liked.

Mariku's covered face was angled at him, and the fierce way his costume accented his muscles made Ryou want to literally drop his pants right then and there. He _really_ liked horror films, especially the classics. The look suited his classmate very naturally.

"No, I'll just have all the fun without you," the muffled voice of Mariku threatened.

Ryou's lips pursed into a pout as he pulled his hoodie over his head. "Fine, but only because I want to wear the mask, too."

"You're such a creepy little fuck," Mariku sniggered, adjusting the strap behind his head.

Ryou unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the sidewalk. He stepped out of them, then folded them neatly and handed them to Mariku. The other boy had a backpack that he'd stuffed all his clothes in, as well as the beloved mask Ryou was so eager to try on.

The fabric of the costume was very loose. Ryou was positive he looked ridiculous in it, but he was too distracted by his sudden excitement to care. This time, it was truly excitement, not terror, that made his stomach contents jump around inside him. Sure, it was still a bad thing to do, but the resulting negative karma would be much less drastic. He watched as Mariku reached into the bag and plucked out a small, round object.

He held the hair tie out to Ryou. "It's going to be really obvious it's us if you don't at least try to hide some of that hairdo of yours."

Ryou twisted his lips in protest, but took the thing. He pulled his hair back and then tucked the ponytail into the back of his costume. His hair had gotten much longer since high school, reaching almost down to his waist. Finally, he was handed the beloved mask and the duo walked as inconspicuously as they could over to the dumpster where a huge castle of boxes stood.

"This is so much fucking toilet paper," Mariku observed, pulling a knife from the inside of his combat boot to start carving the boxes. "I'll get them open, but you have to start unrolling the paper while I do it. If someone sees us, they will definitely call the police."

Ryou nodded. He understood, but he also was very unsure about how to TP something. He didn't have much time to wonder, because the first box was slit and Mariku was holding a roll out to him. It was single-ply; the cheap, thin kind. It was going to be a total bitch to clean up.

The Brit took the toilet paper and immediately chucked it at the building. It hit a window and bounced off, rolling right back to the dumpster.

"You've never done this before, have you?" Mariku asked as the thing rolled right into his foot. He picked it up and broke the glue that held the loose end against the rest of the paper. "Throw it now, but aim over the building this time."

Ryou took it once more, then tossed it. Waving a white flag of surrender, the toilet paper flew through the air, unrolling more as it went. When it landed on the other side of the parking lot, there was a single streak of white against the dark roof shingles.

"That's more like it," Mariku said, simultaneously slicing a second box. "Grab another."

Ryou did as he was told and pulled another from the top row of the box; there was a whole lot of toilet paper. Three rows per box, seventeen boxes. Thankfully, he heard Mariku fold his knife closed as Ryou tossed the second roll. They'd be there all night if they used it all.

Mariku joined him in vandalizing the public property, but the tan man was much more experienced. He threw two at once, criss-crossing them and making them bounce to increase the output. It was a sight to see, that was for sure. Ryou wondered exactly how many times hed TP'd something; probably a lot, knowing his delinquent friend.

Fifteen minutes later, the building was sufficiently covered and the duo of costumed students were almost doubled over in mask-muffled laughter.

"The opener is going to mess in his pants!" Ryou said, clutching the folds of the costume around his belly.

"I wish I could bring you here to see it, but there's no way in fuck I'm waking up that early," Mariku cackled along and glanced around the surrounding streets to make sure they were still alone. He attempted to compose himself, just in case. "We need to leave before someone sees us."

On cue, the sound of sirens cried through the chilly night air.

"Shit." Mariku hooked his arm around the crook of his companions elbow and led him back across the street. The bus stop's awning would serve as their shelter once more. "Put your clothes back on and do it fast."

The contents of the backpack were quickly emptied onto the sidewalk. Ryou sorted through it to find his jeans and then his hoodie. He hadn't worn a shirt, lucky for him. Mariku was still getting dressed when he was finished, and a blue light had faintly begun to flood into his field of vision. Ryou stuffed their masks back into the backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

"We have to walk while you finish. They're almost here," he told Mariku, leading the way down the street in the direction of their apartment building. He heard an impressed _harumph_ from the taller male as he tugged on his jacket.

"If you didn't flub on that first throw, I'd say you've done this before," he commented. Mariku reached out and took the backpack from his companion once he was dressed. If they got caught, he'd be able to move much more quickly with something in tow than Ryou would have.

"I have memories of running from the police as Bakura," the Brit explained. "Plus, I saw the lights. It's simple logic."

He was anything but a criminal, Ryou told himself. The siren was ringing through his ears, deafening for a moment before it was gone. The lights emanating from behind him told him the police had arrived.

"Stop right there!" a man called to them.

Mariku and Ryou both turned around. The officer was shining a flashlight on the students, so Ryou kept his face neutral to hide any guilt that might have shown. He was typically a very expressive person, so he could only hope his version of neutral was enough.

"Can I help you?" Mariku asked, the words sliding off his tongue with terrifying ease. He wasn't nervous, but Ryou supposed he hadn't expected him to be.

"Did you see anyone around here dressed in costumes that might have done that?" The officer pointed his light to the Brawny Burger, and both the students looked at the building like they hadn't yet noticed the terrible state it was in.

"Oh, wow, that looks like a pretty epic TP," Mariku commented. "I'd love to meet the guy who pulled that off, but I can't help you. Sorry."

Ryou's eyes went wide with horror at the disrespect in his companion's tone. The Egyptian began to walk away, but Ryou bowed once in apology before joining him.

"Wait-white hair, turn around again, please."

The words the policeman spoke caused Ryou's stomach to bubble unpleasantly. He reached up to twirl his pony tail around his forefinger nervously before facing the officer again. Mariku halted behind him, eyeing the exchange with the caution of a more experienced criminal.

"Your hoodie is on inside out. Did you just now put it on?"

Ryou looked down; he was right. The big pocket wasn't there anymore, but the outline of the stitching was. "No, I mean, I've had it on all night. I can't believe I didn't notice."

"Well, your description matches what we were given on the phone; taller man with big muscles and a skinny white-haired kid," the officer stated. "I'm going to have to take you in for ques-hey! Get back here!"

Ryou felt a tug on the back of his clothes, and then he was running alongside Mariku. They sprinted down the street, the taller of the two searching frantically for somewhere to hide out the chase. Eventually, they came across a construction site and he spotted their unlikely savior.

A porta-potty.

"Eew! Mariku, no!" Ryou protested, realizing the direction in which they were headed.

"So you'd rather go to jail?" the Egyptian asked, holding the door open for his roommate. He knew the answer before Ryou stepped into the little plastic outhouse. Mariku closed the door, squeezing in beside his roommate. It was hot and stuffy, the air a little too moist, even though the sun had long since set.

"It stinks in here," the Brit said, pinching the end of his nose. He wasn't sure what smelled worse; the marijuana on Mariku's clothes or the turd in the toilet bowl.

"I think it's fresh," the taller one complained, scrunching his face. He leaned over the toilet seat for a better look at the attraction.

Ryou laughed, letting go of his nose in favor of covering his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. The last thing they needed to get caught because he was being noisy.

"You know," Mariku said in a hushed tone. "Now that we're here, I kind of have to take a leak."

"Absolutely not," Ryou argued, defensively moving his foot to the space in front of the toilet bowl. His toe bumped into his companion's because the space was so cramped.

"I was kidding," Mariku whispered, though Ryou wasn't too sure. "Do you think I'm a monster?"

"Don't you know?" the Brit said quietly, tilting his head to meet lilac eyes. He sounded more confident than he felt saying the words. "That's what I like about you."

The Egyptian's face was unreadable as he narrowed his eyes at the comment. He opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of sirens approaching and soon passing them by made him reconsider his words.

"Let's go," he said, tugging the hair tie from the back of his head and shaking out his spiked hair. It was a little flattened in some places and wild in others, but the messiness suited him. "We should be okay now if we take the long way home."

Ryou nodded, seizing the moment where his roommate was distracted to take off and fix his hoodie. They exited the porta-potty and soon fund themselves safely in front of their apartment door. Mariku pulled his key ring out of his backpack and held the it open for Ryou to enter. The Brit couldn't figure out of the gesture was gentlemanly or possessive, but he secretly hoped the latter.

His wishes were granted the second the door was shut.

The deadbolt clicked behind them, and Ryou was roughly shoved up against the wall by the door. He felt his face flicker fearfully before his features settled on a relaxed smile.

He was smiling against a pair of chapped lips; Mariku's.

"You looked so _fucking_ fuckable in that stupid Goddamn mask," the Egyptian said against his mouth, only pulling away by a quarter of an inch. "When you put your hair up, I wanted to fucking pull it like reigns while I bent you over."

"Is this your other personality again," Ryou asked, placing a warm kiss on Mariku's lips while he had the chance, "or is it you?"

"It's me. It was always me," Mariku breathed. He dug his nails into Ryou's wrists as he pinned them to the wall. "I was the one who held your hand in the car and hated how natural it felt. I was the one who saw you with my brother when we were in high school and thought you were the most adorable little fag I'd ever met. I was the one who got jealous when you said that fucker and you have kissed. It was always me, and it was _always_ you, Ree."

"Then why did you reject me two years ago?" Ryou asked, after accepting another deep kiss from his classmate. His mouth was wet from the other's passion; and his tongue. "I don't understand if you felt that way, then-"

"I'm. Going. To. Hurt. You," Mariku enunciated, his teeth bared aggressively. "I'm going to tie you up and fuck you so hard you won't be able to shit without bleeding for a week."

Ryou tilted his head to the side, relishing in the imagery. "And you thought I wouldn't be able to handle the things you wanted to do?"

"Back then, yeah," Mariku admitted. He sneered and bit down on Ryou's bottom lip. He continued, teeth clinched around the flesh, "But now I know you're just as big of a freak as I am. Just better at hiding it."

"Alrighty, well, this is getting a little too heavy for me," a voice said from the couch. "So, I think I'll go ahead and take my leave. I'm happy for you, though, really. Ryou's first thought when he met you was how much hotter than Malik you were, so it's about damn time."

Ryou peeked past Mariku's hair to see Bakura sitting on the couch, a half-eaten Poptart in his hand. He picked up the controls and turned off the television.

"Don't be too noisy; Malik is asleep," he said, then put the corner of the pastry into his mouth, gathered his other snacks and disappeared into his bedroom.

Mariku turned back to Ryou, smirking in a way one might compare to a predatory cat who was curious about its cornered prey's next move.

"We're never going to get away from those two," Ryou whispered into his roommate's jawbone, raising his hand to fiddle with the zipper of Mariku's jacket. He was asking permission to remove it, and it was granted when the taller student grabbed his hand a wrapped it around the metal.

"I knew he was there, I just didn't care," Mariku admitted, then glanced downward at the tent in his pants. "There are more pressing things to worry about."

And worry about them, they did.

 **.**

The semen tasted sweet and starchy in Ryou's mouth, and he spit it out because the heat of it triggered a gag reflex.

"I told you not to spit it this time," Mariku said, cocking his head to the side. He lay on the bed, naked in all his tanned glory. Ryou admired the way the sweat pooled between his partner's tensed muscles as he wiped his mouth on the balled-up t-shirt he'd spit into.

"I'm sorry. I felt like I was going to vomit," the Brit admitted, finally convincing himself to stop staring at the other male. The sight was one to behold, but he didn't want Mariku thinking he was a creep.

The Egyptian chuckled and the sound brought only trouble. "I guess you'll need to practice more."

When he laughed, Ryou covered his mouth with the hand that wasn't caked in dried saliva and cum. "Yes, I think you're absolutely right. But right now, I have to go to work."

"Work? It's Friday already?" Mariku searched for his jeans in the dark of Ryou's bedroom ( _their_ bedroom? The other male had not slept anywhere else since the previous weekend, even though his mattress was flat and the frame rusted). He'd averted his eyes to give the other some privacy, but the pale student heard a belt buckle and assumed the other must have found his clothing.

"It's definitely Friday. Will you pick me up from the store for class at three?" Ryou asked, reaching out to run an affectionate hand down his partner's chest. The skin was wet and warm under his knuckles. The feeling was as lovely as the thought of finally starting his new job. He'd found one as a keyholder at a local game store; the shop they'd frequented the last few years of being roommates.

"Only if you'll use your discount on the new Walking Dead game and play it with me afterwards." Mariku's grin said he'd do it anyway, but Ryou had become quite the sucker for those flashing canines.

"Only if you'll let me practice more, too," said the Brit, allowing his eyelids to flutter as he looked at the floor. The carpet was dull and boring compared to the beautiful man standing on it before him, too exotic to take in all at once. He settled his eyes low, on tanned feet were much bigger than Ryou's. He smiled at the curling blonde hairs that bushed out of Mariku's big toes.

"Only if you'll let me reciprocate."

The purr of his partner's voice made Ryou tilt his chin to get a peek of the seductive look on the other's face. Bedroom eyes were much more arousing when they were lavender, he'd concluded, forcing himself not to think about his own ignored desire. He nodded and excused himself to brush his teeth.

"Right, you might not want to show up to day one with dick breath," came Mariku's commentary from behind him in the small en suite bathroom. The two had always shared the space, though it was a little more awkward before. Now, the tanned man wrapped his arms around Ryou from behind like his arms weren't meant for anything else, and the smaller student admired the sight in the mirror. It was something he'd never imagined himself to have; domestic bliss, but not quite. It was happiness, but not a happily-ever-after. It wasn't the typical love at first sight, prince-rescues-princess romance.

It meant blood in his mouth from biting lips, bruises on his back and chest from rough hands. It was the smell of sweat and the taste of cum. Their relationship was late night gaming and pizza rolls. Being encased in a half-naked Egyptian while he brushed his teeth. Ryou closed his eyes and rested a hand on Mariku's arm that banded his stomach, rubbing his thumb across the coarse hairs.

Their relationship was a long way off from being a fairy tale, but neither man had ever been more at ease with another human being. And, really, wasn't that what everyone aimed for?

Ryou held the toothpaste in his mouth a little longer than he'd needed to.

 **.**


End file.
